


Sky and Sea

by argentconflagration



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), F/F, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Ineffable Wives (Good Omens), Other, She/Her Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Wing Grooming, Wingfic, and they go on holiday, it's the early 2000s, oh and there's vaguely erotic wing stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentconflagration/pseuds/argentconflagration
Summary: “Think of it,” Crowley said, leaning forward again until their faces were side by side, close enough to be conspiratorial. “If we didn’t tell anyone where we were going, we’d have no one looking over our shoulders, just for a little while. We could relax, for once.”“Yes, well, that does sound lovely ...” Aziraphale said wistfully. She wound her napkin around her thumb as she tried to put off the inevitable next bit of the conversation. They couldn’t, of course. They were an angel and a demon. Enemies. They couldn’t just … just shirk their responsibilities to have a holiday together like newly-weds on a honeymoon.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 133
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	1. Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meinposhbastard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/gifts).



> Written for meinposhbastard, who requested Ineffable Wives, wing stuff, and sexual tension. I kind of mixed together several of your prompts, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> In this fic, Aziraphale and Crowley are presenting masculinely for the first section, and femininely for the remainder of the fic. She/her pronouns are used throughout.

“Angel,” Crowley said suddenly. “I had a thought.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” said Aziraphale, speaking around a mouthful of cheesecake. “I was there. You were there. The Bastille was still standing in 1793, regardless of what the history books say, and there is no reason to argue the subject any further.” They’d been arguing the point on and off since they’d sat down for lunch, and Aziraphale was quite looking forward to dropping the topic.

“Not about _that,”_ said Crowley, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s about work.”

Aziraphale had perked up at the promise of a change of topic, but promptly turned back to her plate in disappointment. “Oh, alright, what is it?”

Crowley leaned forward with a grin-- the kind that Aziraphale might characterise as a _scheming_ grin. It was naturally unsettling, but Aziraphale still had to push aside the part of her that took a little too much enjoyment from Crowley looking at her like that.

“I was just thinking that I’ve been rather neglectful of my international duties these past few centuries, don’t you think?”

Aziraphale nodded, waiting politely for her to get to the point.

“Well,” she said, satisfaction written all over her tone. “I’m not on any particular assignment at the moment, so I really ought to at least go check up on another continent for a bit, yeah?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale frowned, suddenly less interested in Crowley’s grin and Crowley’s scheming. She used her napkin to wipe non-existent crumbs from around her impeccably clean mouth. “How long will you be gone, then?”

“Well, see, that’s the thing.” Crowley continued. She leaned back in her chair, and her mouth began to creep up into a smirk. “If I just up and left for the other side of the world all of a sudden, it’d be awfully irresponsible of you to just let me. You know, without following to see where I was going and what wiles I was getting up to.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows lifted a few millimetres, though she didn’t otherwise change her expression. “Ah. So it would be.” She was relaxing by the tiniest increment, into something softer and more hopeful.

“Think of it,” Crowley said, leaning forward again until their faces were side by side, close enough to be conspiratorial. “If we didn’t tell anyone where we were going, we’d have no one looking over our shoulders, just for a little while. We could relax, for once.”

“Yes, well, that does sound lovely ...” Aziraphale said wistfully. She wound her napkin around her thumb as she tried to put off the inevitable next bit of the conversation. They couldn’t, of course. They were an angel and a demon. Enemies. They couldn’t just … just shirk their responsibilities to have a holiday together like newly-weds on a honeymoon. Aziraphale hated this part, having to be the one who stopped them from doing something reckless. And at the same time she hated having to feel small and chastised and ashamed for being the sort of angel who wanted like this.

“Listen,” Crowley said, an edge of desperation entering her tone, “every employee deserves breaks. You’ve done a lot lately, just look at the ...” She faltered a bit, but made a quick recovery. “Look at how smoothly the millennium turned over, that was all thanks to you, when you think about it.”

“That was all your doing!” Aziraphale protested. “You know I know bugger-all about computers. And anyway, I thought you said the humans did most of the real work.”

“I _nudged._ They were important nudges. And I was paying you back for making the pope apologize to Galileo, and I hardly think _that_ was an easy job. That was hilarious, by the way, I can’t thank you enough.” The familiar glint of mischief entered her eyes again. “So we worked together, it was more efficient that way. That’s not the point. The point is, you deserve a break once in a while.”

Aziraphale’s mouth remained tight, and she didn’t say anything. She was letting herself be talked into this, and she knew she shouldn’t be.

“Short notice. No time to send a memo back to Head Office,” Crowley continued. “No one would even know where we’d gone off to or what we were doing, until we get back and report a well-fought no-score draw.”

Crowley was staring into her eyes with what Aziraphale could only describe as _care,_ and her resolve wilted. “I suppose … there’s nothing wrong with taking a holiday every once in a while. And if I was thwarting you … there’s really no reason for anyone to be upset at me, is there?”

“Not at all,” said Crowley, and leaned back, taking the last bite of Aziraphale’s cheesecake with her.

“You should wear something different, too. You know, for-- because it’s a holiday. It’s been so long since you’ve worn anything besides that old thing.”

“That’s because I _like_ this coat,” Aziraphale answered with well-worn exasperation. “But your point is well-taken. When shall we leave?”

Crowley burst into a dazzling smile, and Aziraphale let herself be captivated.

* * *

The flight over was awful. Humans still hadn’t managed to make pleasant the experience of flying under a machine’s power, and there were some indignities even miracles couldn’t smooth over. They’d decided to travel separately, of course, with Crowley leaving a few hours ahead of Aziraphale, to give their cover story a veneer of plausibility to any prying eyes. Aziraphale thought the flight might have been more pleasant if she’d had a certain demon beside her, then promptly tamped down on the part of her brain that was quickly getting carried away with that thought. There was still a certain dangerous part of her that was tempted to view this as more intimate than it was-- as if Crowley was taking her on a romantic getaway for just the two of them. It was a part of her that had to be carefully boxed up and sealed away in a small corner of her mind, lest it blaze wildly out of control. But she’d been doing this for centuries. She had it well in hand.

She shuffled through Narita Airport feeling sluggish and overwhelmed, but when she finally reached the hotel, the breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean scattered all the thoughts that had been in her head. So magnificent of God, to create a sun that glinted off the gentle waves of the ocean as it hung high in the sky above. So clever of humans, to build here, where it could be appreciated in all its beauty. So kind of Crowley, to bring her here to enjoy it.

A pleasant exhaustion suffused her as she opened the door to their hotel room. She hung up her coat and scarf on the back of the door, leaving her only in her loose skirt and ruffled blouse, before making her way to the bedroom.

She probably shouldn’t have been surprised to see Crowley spread out on the bed, but was certainly unusual for her to have her wings out like this. The bed was large, probably quite a bit larger than it had been yesterday. Crowley’s wingtips barely reached the edge, even though all six of her limbs were sprawled out like an asterisk. She seemed to only vaguely register Aziraphale’s presence, lifting her head slightly to make an ambiguous sound before dropping back down to the pillow.

“Are you quite enjoying yourself, Crowley?” It made sense that the room would have only the one bed-- Crowley was the only one who slept, after all-- but there wasn’t even a chair in the room nor anywhere else to sit. She found a place by Crowley’s wing to sit down and folded her hands in her lap.

“Mmm,” Crowley said, an affirmative noise. “These sheets feel fantastic. That was far too many hours to spend in a metal box.”

She wasn’t wrong, the sheets were awfully silky and pleasant to the touch. But Aziraphale found herself quite a bit more focused on the demon lying atop them, looking as if she were trying to sink into the mattress. Every muscle looked relaxed-- she wasn’t the least bit on guard. And-- and, while it had been a very long time since either of them had reason to distrust each other, it still gripped Aziraphale’s heart to see Crowley’s trust on such naked display. Her eyes roamed across Crowley’s wings feather by feather, a sense of awe washing over her, and a familiar ache alongside it.

 _She’s perfect,_ some part of her whispered. She wanted to touch, and she wished she didn’t.

“Dear,” Aziraphale began, her voice creaking slightly, “it seems you have a feather out of place.”

“Oh, so I do,” Crowley answered, still in that deep, mellow, half-asleep voice. 

“Yes, and, well … would you mind terribly if I fixed it for you?”

“Go right ahead,” Crowley said blithely, not moving her face from where it was pressed into the pillow.

Aziraphale nodded, swallowing to clear her throat of its sudden constriction. The feather in question was a tertial, close to the place where Crowley’s wings disappeared into her blouse through a loose slit. It lay at an awkward angle, so Aziraphale went to smooth it back into place with her fingers. She handled it delicately, running her fingers over the barbs section by section until they were all flawlessly straight and hooked together. She knew she was being silly as she drew it out-- there was only so long a person could take to run her fingers over one feather.

“Oh, there’s a few more that are a bit ruffled,” Aziraphale said, glad for the fact that Crowley’s face was turned into the mattress and not looking at her. “Would it be alright if I quickly put them into place?”

“Yeah, take all the time you like, angel,” Crowley said, without a care in the world.

Aziraphale swallowed and started to work.

* * *

See, the problem was, with just her fingers to work with, in order to properly get all the way to the base of one feather, she had to disturb the next. And then that one would need fixing, and so on. It was well nigh impossible to make Crowley’s feathers sit properly without ending up preening the whole of her wings.

The problem definitely had nothing to do with the low murmurs Crowley was producing every time Aziraphale touched her.

Crowley’s eyes were closed in bliss, and her shoulders somehow managed to relax even further as Aziraphale ran her fingers along each scapular. Crowley made an encouraging noise, and then without really thinking, Aziraphale was pressing her fingers into the muscle of Crowley’s wings. Crowley groaned in pleased response, and Aziraphale wondered how long it had been since anyone had touched Crowley like this. Perhaps not since before the Fall, if the way Crowley talked about her interactions with other demons was anything to go by. She tried to quash the spark of excitement that ran through her at the thought that she was that special to her.

She shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. She pressed the palm of her hand into the joint where Crowley’s wing met her back and tried to tell herself that this was simply another part of their arrangement. If her corporation was becoming a certain amount … _affected_ by Crowley’s enjoyment, it was only a perfectly normal side effect of inhabiting a body so human-shaped. She certainly didn’t want to lie down next to Crowley, didn’t want to feel the sides of their bodies press together from shoulder to toe. 

Finally, _finally,_ she forced herself to stop coming up with new reasons to touch Crowley, and sat back on the bed, her knees folded under her. 

“There, that should keep you tidy for a few decades at the very least,” she said. She willed her blush to go down.

For a moment, Crowley’s only response was to murmur _“Aziraphale”_ in that too-breathy voice that Aziraphale was trying very hard to ignore. Crowley lay motionless, one with the bed, for several minutes as Aziraphale focused very intently on a chip in the wall above the headboard. 

Crowley rolled over onto her back, tucking in her wings and looking up at Aziraphale with a sleepy smile. “All right, your turn.”

“You don’t have to,” said Aziraphale, too quickly. “I’m quite alright as I am.”

“Come on, I owe you,” she said, grinning, and Aziraphale was powerless to resist. She lay down on the bed where Crowley had been-- the sheets still warm with Crowley’s body heat, a few discarded black feathers resting against her skin-- and let her wings unfold into physical space. 

Crowley started slowly, but it was still too much. All she was doing was running her fingers along the top of Aziraphale’s wing, but it wasn’t the touch, exactly.

What Aziraphale was trying to avoid thinking of was how Crowley was touching a part of her that no one else ever did. She was trying not to think of how completely she trusted Crowley, and how gentle Crowley’s fingers felt against her feathers and skin, and how much she wanted to squirm and curl her toes and sigh out Crowley’s name.

Crowley’s fingers dragged across her primaries as she guided the barbs into place, and Aziraphale tried her best not to lose herself in the sensation of it. Crowley rubbed circles into joints stiff and sore from disuse and Aziraphale didn’t flinch, she did not cry out, she kept her bursts of relief contained to a small and still thing inside her.

It was impossible not to notice the care, the love with which Crowley worked. She handled Aziraphale like she was something precious, a treasure she was blessed to have the opportunity to touch. _Demon,_ Aziraphale frantically reminded herself, but it didn’t work. It hadn’t worked in centuries, if she was honest with herself.

Crowley pulled off, and Aziraphale gave a final whimper before allowing herself to relax into the sensation of what Crowley had done to her wings. Her muscles were loose and pliant, her feathers smooth and beautiful. Before she could think better of it, she folded her wings against her body and rolled over to make room for Crowley on the bed. It felt cruel to be deprived of Crowley’s presence at the moment. 

They didn’t mean to fall asleep together. They were just both so relaxed, and exhausted from the flight, and even though Aziraphale rarely slept, it was really no wonder that the sound of each other’s breathing might lull them into that particular trance together.

In Aziraphale’s dreams, she still felt the warmth of Crowley’s wing stretched over her.


	2. Sea

Aziraphale woke feeling warm and relaxed as melted butter. She was spread out under the lovely silk sheets, luxuriating in the rare feeling of her body heavy with sleep. She gradually came to, blinking in the now-dark room, and still half enveloped in the sensation of Crowley’s feathers against her skin. It was a few minutes before she realized Crowley wasn’t actually in the bed with her.

She turned to see Crowley sitting in a chair that hadn’t been there when they’d gone to sleep, reading by a small glow that wasn’t emanating from anywhere in particular. Her wings were still stretched across the room, black as midnight. When she noticed Aziraphale stirring, she looked up and grinned. The light reflected off her eyes, making her look so properly demonic Aziraphale was surprised she couldn’t see horns and a tail. It wasn’t the least bit frightening.

Crowley held up the book she’d been reading, some sort of travel guide. “Thought I’d find us something to do when the sun comes up tomorrow,” she said, slithering off the chair. 

“What time is it?” Aziraphale said, voice still groggy.

“Oh, somewhere in the late evening,” said Crowley. “We slept for a few hours. Not like you to sleep longer than me, though.”

Aziraphale blushed, and hoped Crowley couldn’t see it in the dim light. “Yes, well, the flight took a lot out of me. What did you find for us to do?”

Crowley rattled off a list of things to do in Tokyo that Aziraphale struggled to pay attention to, her mind still fixed on the events of a few hours ago. They couldn’t do this regularly, of course. If Heaven or Hell were to pop in on them with their hands in each other’s wings, there’d be no mistaking the traitorous level of intimacy between them. She felt a shiver of fear at the thought. Heaven would find a way to hurt her, and Hell … it didn’t bear thinking about.

“Aziraphale, are you listening?”

“I’m sorry, my dear, just let myself drift. Do carry on.”

Crowley continued to explain the top contenders for the best sushi in the world, and quite against her will, Aziraphale felt hope unfolding inside her. Perhaps this holiday would be an exception, a lovely mutual experience that they could pack up and put away upon their return to London. Doing something different once in a while wouldn’t have to mean forever. As Crowley was so fond of saying, no one would have to know. 

“That all sounds lovely,” Aziraphale said, surprising even herself with the interruption, “but for now, perhaps we could take a walk along the beach?” It would surely be deserted at this time of night, and the image of the two of them strolling along the shore together was an appealing mental image. In her mind, Crowley was holding her hand. She quickly pretended she hadn’t had that thought.

“Alright,” said Crowley, setting down her book. And the light blinked out of existence.

* * *

After a quick dinner (it turned out that Aziraphale hadn’t been able to completely forsake food), they reached the beach a little past midnight. There wasn’t another soul to be seen.

They were not holding hands.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” Aziraphale said, gazing upward. The light pollution was even worse than in London, but the sky was cloudless and deep. And then Crowley snapped her fingers, and all the lights around them dimmed. Aziraphale could see the haze of a galaxy just above the waves on the horizon.

When she lowered her gaze again, Crowley was staring at her. For a moment Aziraphale met her eyes, and hoped. It was the same way her heart  always  leapt to realize Crowley was nearby, again and again over the millennia. There  had always been a crack in her heart, and a burst of light shone through in those moments before she could stabilize herself.  And now that light struck her in full force, burning her up. 

The moment passed in an instant, Crowley looking away as if caught doing something wrong. They each fixed their gazes straight ahead, and didn’t speak as they walked onward.

There was a patch of rock at the end of the beach, rising above the sand and jutting into the sea.  It was high enough that they had to climb to scale it, Aziraphale awkward in her skirt and unused to the exertion.  Crowley offered her hand to help her up. Aziraphale  took it, and felt another pang of hope. 

She was panting by the time they reached the top, so they strolled out towards the water instead of descending down the other side right away. It didn’t seem like a place that guests were supposed to be, but they could deal with any unwanted attention if and when it became a problem.

Besides, this holiday wasn’t for ‘supposed to’.

There were tide pools on the end of the outcropping, gathering bits of the sea onto the rocky shore. Crowley squatted down next to one, and dragged her finger lazily through the water as Aziraphale came up behind her.

“I knew the guy who did tide pools,” she said, seemingly talking to herself as much as Aziraphale. “He was really caught up in the coming together of it, half land and half sea, and all that. Don’t know what happened to him, of course.”

Aziraphale made a sympathetic noise and sat down beside her. Crowley’s hair fluttered in the ocean breeze, the ringlets hitting her back where the tops of her wings would be. Aziraphale didn’t know how she’d survived this long, being so close to something so beautiful.

A few feet away from them, a crab skittered along the rock, mottled in black and white.

“I’d say he’s still up there doing his job,” Crowley continued, “but I don’t remember his plans being too popular with the higher-ups.”

“Well, he must have succeeded, right? Since Earth does have tide pools.”

“I suppose so.”

A gull shrieked overhead, noticing the crab and swooping down with its beak open. The crab skittered to the safety of a tide pool and disappeared under the water. The gull flew off.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said after a long moment. 

“Hm?”

“For this … outing. It’s rather lovely to get away from the stress of being watched.”

“Wasn’t just for me, angel.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Oh, just take the compliment.”

Crowley moved closer by a few inches, moving to properly sit on the rock instead of crouching. It was perhaps easier for her to manoeuvre than for Aziraphale, in black jeans rather than a skirt. They clung tightly to her legs, but then again, everything Crowley had worn in the past several decades had been tight and unfairly attractive.

“Do you think,” Aziraphale started, and her chest constricted painfully. “Do you think … this really is a place where … _things_ … can happen that wouldn’t normally?”

“What’s that mean?” Crowley took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes, and put them back on, not looking at Aziraphale.

“I’m sure you know.”

Crowley exhaled heavily and slouched against her. She took one of Aziraphale’s blond ringlets between her fingers, rolling the split ends against her thumb. “Just because I brought us here doesn’t mean I’m going to push you for anything you don’t want. If you want something, you probably ought to let me know.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Crowley’s hair had fallen against Aziraphale’s chest like this, and Aziraphale brushed it out of the way of Crowley’s face. “It’s not right of me to make you do everything.”

“Oh, Aziraphale, you know it’s not that.” Crowley flicked away the lock she’d been playing with. “I would do it, if it were a matter of just … who has to get it out of the way.”

“No … I know.” Aziraphale’s heart twisted from the weight of feeling a thousand things at once. Hope and affection, guilt and shame and fear. “You want to know, don’t you? You want me to say it.” _You want ‘I love you’ and all I have is ‘I am afraid.’_ “We’ve been doing this for so long.”

Crowley’s silence was an answer.

“I’m sorry, Crowley, I want to be able to tell you ‘I’m not afraid anymore.’ But I can’t, I am, I’m terrified of something happening to you. The more we do this dance the more terrified I become.” Crowley’s face screwed up in a grimace, like Aziraphale had physically hurt her, and she was instantly stricken with regret for having let the words burst forth so plainly. But she couldn’t help the way they’d beat incessantly against her ribcage, demanding to be let out. 

Crowley threw her arms around Aziraphale. “Please,” she said. “I know I’ve been begging but let me beg one more time. Please, let’s face this together, our own side.” She wrapped her arms around her, tangling one hand in Aziraphale’s hair.

All at once Aziraphale was struck with the force of Crowley’s love. It was pouring out of her, through all of Crowley’s being and seeking all of Aziraphale’s. It shone and burned, so bright and clear it overwhelmed all of Aziraphale’s senses. Whether there had been an obstacle in the showing or the seeing, she couldn’t say, but there was no obstacle any longer. Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s love with the intensity of a star.

Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s face with uncertain fingers. She cupped her cheek and pulled her close, and with sudden and mutual understanding they drew together to kiss. Crowley pressed against her mouth and opened for her, all softness and heat and want. She shuffled herself into Aziraphale’s lap, and they kissed like they’d never be sated.

And they wouldn’t be, of course. They only had two short weeks before they’d return to London and have to pretend none of this ever happened. They’d need to go back to pretending they didn’t know or care about what had been growing between them for thousands of years. They’d squash their affection for each other down into the smallest form it could be confined to.

Unless.

Unless there really was a way to do what Crowley had suggested. Evade their fate together. Somehow. If they could just find their own little tide pool to hide in, perhaps they could find away to keep their relationship from Heaven and Hell.

Aziraphale poured everything she’d held back for millennia into that kiss. Every ‘I love you’ she’d wanted to say, every affectionate touch she’d wanted to share. If all of her love for Crowley could be conveyed in a single kiss, it would have to be this one.

She pulled back to gasp, “I love you.” She needed to say it even more than she needed Crowley’s lips on hers. _“I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m terrified of how much I love you. I’m terrified by the thought of you being taken away from me. But please never doubt that I **want** to entrust everything I am to you.”_

Crowley stared at her, something like awe spreading across her face. For a moment, she looked like she was about to cry. 

Then she jumped to her feet, and took Aziraphale’s hand to pull her up along with her. 

* * *

They walked back to the hotel, or mostly walked, anyway. For propriety’s sake, Aziraphale was trying to avoid breaking into a run like a hormonal human desperate for the privacy of a hotel room. But Crowley’s strides were longer than hers, and she wasn’t walking slowly. Aziraphale had to do a half jog to keep up.

“Sorry, I can slow down,” Crowley said, and her face was flushed and her eyes were wild, and she was beautiful.

“Ah, no no,” Aziraphale said quickly, even as she panted to catch her breath. “I can keep up. It’s, rather, it’s an excuse to go a bit faster than I otherwise would, really.”

Crowley made a sharp little intake of breath at that, and she clasped Aziraphale’s hand firmly in hers, and they made their way quickly up the beach together.

* * *

They were barely inside their room before Aziraphale was pressing Crowley up against the door. Aziraphale kissed her again, hard, and Crowley’s breath was hot in her mouth. Crowley wrapped her arms around her, pulled her impossibly close, and when Aziraphale rocked her hips into Crowley she gasped and manifested her wings, which wrapped around Aziraphale in a black cocoon.

Aziraphale stopped for just a moment to pull off Crowley’s glasses and fling them onto the table. It was apparently too long for Crowley, who buried both hands in Aziraphale’s hair and pulled their bodies flush.

Oh, to be _wanted_ like this! Had Crowley wanted this all along? And even as Aziraphale asked herself that question, she knew the answer. She’d carefully avoided seeing the truth plainly for so long.

Crowley whimpered an apology against Aziraphale’s skin. “Sorry, I just--” She couldn’t finish her sentence, but her face-- skin flushed and damp, eyes blown full yellow-- told Aziraphale everything she needed to know. And oh, how could she not give Crowley everything she wanted? She kissed Crowley hard against the door again and shivered at the small noises Crowley produced. She rocked into her and pushed her knee in between Crowley’s legs. She moaned when Crowley hiked up her skirt to rub her slim thigh very deliberately against the wet spot on Aziraphale’s underthings.

“Bed?” Aziraphale gasped, flushing with embarrassment. She was an angel, she wasn’t supposed to have desires of the flesh at all, but she supposed that was a bridge she’d crossed a long time ago. She desired gourmet sushi and fine wine, hot baths and delicate manicures. And she desired Crowley. Always, always Crowley, always the one thing that she wasn’t allowed to want.

And now Crowley knew, and was clinging to her like being wanted by Aziraphale was the purpose of her existence.

Aziraphale reached her arm under Crowley’s legs to scoop her up and carry her into the bedroom.

She laid Crowley onto the bed and kissed her, moving from Crowley’s mouth down her jaw to her neck, and then miracled off her blouse so she could continue down Crowley’s bony chest, kissing down the slight curve of her breasts before reaching the trail of hair that led into her trousers.

Crowley shivered, making quiet, high noises. Her hands were everywhere she could reach on Aziraphale’s body, fingers digging in like she was afraid Aziraphale would slip out of her grasp. Perhaps she was.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you more than anything.” She traced her finger down the seam of Crowley’s jeans. “I want to partake of you, if you’ll let me.”

_“Please,”_ Crowley whined, and Aziraphale undid Crowley’s button, spurred into haste by the noises she was making. She pulled Crowley’s trousers down to press her face to the warmth between her legs, and felt herself grow hot as Crowley’s taste reached her tongue. She needed Crowley closer, and curled her hands around the high arches of Crowley’s hips to pull the two of them into each other. Her tongue pressed against Crowley’s cunt, exploring slowly and gently, tasting everything Crowley had to offer.

“Fuck,” Crowley gasped, arching off the bed, making something tighten in Aziraphale’s gut. “Please, angel, take whatever you want, take whatever of me you want.” She was babbling now, the words coming out in a muddy stream as she arched and twisted to let Aziraphale press deeper.

“I want all of you, darling,” Aziraphale said in a whisper so low it felt it was coming from the very core of herself. She dragged a hand down to press her fingers inside Crowley, and whispered reverently against her skin. “I adore you, Crowley. Everything you are is what I want. Every second that you’ll let me worship you.”

Crowley’s voice dissolved into messy whimpers as she rocked against Aziraphale’s hand, trying to pull her in deeper. Aziraphale shivered, and bent to press her tongue against Crowley’s clit again. Crowley was letting her do this, Crowley wanted her to have this, and Aziraphale could have cried from gratitude and love. She wanted everything that Crowley invited her to taste. When Crowley’s knees clenched around her shoulders she felt the tension in her body snap, pulsing in her groin.

She started to draw back to catch her breath, but Crowley protested. “N-no, please.” Aziraphale was quick to give her whatever she wanted, pressing her fingers in deeper and mouthing at her clit until Crowley gasped and cried out. She tightened her fist in Aziraphale’s hair, and spasmed in waves around her fingers.

Crowley sank back against the pillows with a small sound, looking boneless and entirely wrung out. She gave Aziraphale’s hair a tired tug.

Aziraphale trailed her hands over Crowley’s body as she shifted up to lie beside her. She was so beautiful, Aziraphale could hardly breathe.

“You’re so soft,” Crowley sighed against Aziraphale’s lips, sounding utterly wrecked. “You’re so good to me.”

Aziraphale pulled her tight and kissed her, still with the taste of her on her tongue. “Oh, love, you’ve been so gentle with me. You deserve the world.”

* * *

They lay together there for a long time, Crowley’s head tucked into Aziraphale’s bosom while Aziraphale pressed small kisses to her damp hair. Their wings were still spread out into a cocoon of feathers, beneath them and above them and around them. Crowley shivered in her arms, twitching like she wanted to say something, but only burying her face in Aziraphale’s shoulder again.

“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale said, running her hand gently through her lover’s hair.

“Mmm,” Crowley hummed. “Just perfect. S’gonna be a lot, though. Hiding … all this.”

“It will,” Aziraphale agreed. “But I think it may be easier to keep things from our respective superiors.” She closed her wings around the two of them, letting a hush fall over them so Crowley could hear her voice, which had gone as soft as the touch of a feather. “Easier than keeping things from each other,” she whispered. “Or from ourselves.”

Crowley wound her arms around Aziraphale again, constricting like a snake as she nodded her agreement. Their wings brushed against each other as they held each other tight, with all the determination of two supernatural beings of immense power.

Whatever it took, they _would_ be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh jeez, that took way longer to edit than I thought it would, but I hope it turned out okay! Thanks for reading, let me know if you enjoyed it! 
> 
> You can hmu on tumblr at [argentconflagration](https://argentconflagration.tumblr.com). Thanks to [D20Owlbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeforeCrimson/pseuds/D20Owlbear) for the beta work!
> 
> Historical, etc. notes:  
> \- The Pope apologized to Galileo in 1992. I am very tickled by the thought of Aziraphale and Crowley, the only two people still on earth who could personally remember Galileo's trial, being the ones to make that happen.   
> \- The Y2K problem turned out to be a big nothing, but only because lots of people spent lots of time solving the problem. Kind of like the ozone layer. Also, there were people who thought the world was going to end in 2000, and I like the idea of this fic having a slight post-nonpocalyptic feel that way.   
> \- Aziraphale and Crowley are vacationing in Chiba, Japan. It's 1) a popular tourist spot that's 2) very far away from England. They left in the middle of the day and arrived in the middle of the day because time zones.   
> \- When Aziraphale says "The stars are beautiful tonight," she's totally referencing that anecdote about Natsume Soseki telling his student to translate "I love you" as _Tsuki wa kirei desu ne_ ("The moon is beautiful tonight") because "Japanese people wouldn't be so direct", but she can't even bring herself to make a direct reference because they're both disasters.


End file.
